


Breaking Point

by DirtyKnots



Series: Kinktober 2017 [21]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Autofellatio, Comeplay, Father/Son Incest, Incest, M/M, Rimming, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Unsafe Sex, light fluff, mild dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 04:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/pseuds/DirtyKnots
Summary: Kinktober 2017 - Day 21: Double (or more) PenetrationPrompt: pleasurific said: *casually slides into your askbox* heyyy so, consider this: Stiles spends his teen years complaining about how he's the only one not having sex. What if he keeps rambling about it at home one day, to John, because no one else will listen to him anymore, and John decides to shut him up by giving Stiles exactly what he wants? (many times, in many many positions)





	Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pleasurific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasurific/gifts).



> Read the tags.

John had never set appropriate boundaries. Or, he had, it's just that they were looser than most. Maybe too loose. Being a single father was a challenge, having a young and overly curious son was also a challenge. And maybe if his wife had lived, things would've been different. Maybe John wouldn't have answered every question Stiles had asked him. Maybe they'd have had different boundaries. Ones that were more age appropriate that shifted as Stiles got older. But life didn't work out that way, so Stiles probably knew things he shouldn't at an age that was a bit too young. Which meant that the questions and curiosity and uncleared browser searches got more and more involved, to the point John is at now where he doesn't even blink when he turns on the TV or the computer only to be confronted with porn at volumes far louder than they should be.

He's also got to listen to Stiles constantly whine about how close minded his classmates are. How little they understand about anything that isn't the standard, hetero, tab a into slot b. Even the not-straight ones seem to be too vanilla for his boy's taste. Which, honestly, is more than John ever really expected to know about Stiles’ sex life. Or his lack thereof, which is what he was ranting about when John left for work this morning. He feels for Stiles, he does, but it's hard to listen to his son complain about not getting laid, about how nobody finds him attractive, about how “utterly unfuckable I am, dad.” John had made vague noises at him and then rushed to the station. What was he supposed to say to that exactly? “Well son, I'd fuck you.” 

Because there's the rub...he would. He would if it wasn't illegal and wrong in so many ways. Because Stiles is slim but not skinny, he's little muscle and soft skin and wide eyes and a beautiful dusting of moles. His son is beautiful. And is his son. And also underage. He's not really sure which is worse. When he first realized what that growing swell of feeling was inside of him, John thought maybe it was because the boy reminded him of Claudia...but that wasn't it. Not really. Sure, the tilt of his nose was similar, maybe the shade of his eyes, but honestly there wasn't enough of her there to justify it. It was a pretty lie he told himself for as long as he could. It had been a long while since it was effective. Now he mostly just swallowed down his guilt over the attraction, tried not to choke on it.

This morning had been like that. He didn't trust himself anymore, couldn't offer Stiles any kind of reassurance that he was attractive, that his lack of offers didn't have anything to do with how fuckable he was. Not least because Stiles wouldn't have believed him, would've assumed it was John doing his parental duty...and there wouldn't have been a way to convince him otherwise without completely revealing his own perversion. John's distracted by all of this, still running through his head after ten hours on shift, and so he doesn't recognize the noises that hit his ears when he walks in the front door. Doesn't notice them at all, really. Not until he turns the corner of the hall and ends up in the living room, body freezing on the spot, eyes fixed to the sofa.

Stiles it completely bare, his back on a sofa cushion, lower half propped against the back of the sofa itself, knees bent and feet planted near the top of it. He's contorted himself into a mockery of a sit-up, abs flexed and tensed to hold the curl he's in, throw pillow propping his neck and shoulders up better. He's nearly folded in half, ass pointed at the ceiling, but that's not what John is focused on. No - his eyes are glued to where Stiles’ mouth is pursed snugly around his own cockhead, cheeks hollowed as he sucks at the tip. John can hear a wet squelching, timed to match the slurping noises coming from his son's mouth, and finally let's his gaze traveling upwards. He thinks he makes a noise then, when he sees that Stiles has two to fingers pushed into his hole, pumping in and out while he sucks himself off. His cock twitches hard in his khakis when there's a lewd pop and Stiles’ voice floats over to him.

“Hey dad...sorry, I thought I'd be done before you got home.” John blinks, mouth opening and closing. Stiles’ head is tipped upside-down, lips puffy and swollen, a thin sheen of sweat coating his naked body. Even as he speaks, his fingers keep thrusting in and out of his hole. “I saw a thing, on the internet, and thought I'd try it, but my bed really doesn't have the support.” His head tips back up, tongue poking free of his mouth to lap at the slit in his cock, a low groan echoing as he tastes himself, and John...is done. He's so fucking done. 

Stiles’ gaze goes back to him as John stomps towards the sofa, his eyes widening and his mouth opening, likely to apologize more. He doesn't get a chance to speak before John is there, hand gripped around Stiles’ wrist and yanking his fingers free of his hole. 

“Dad I-” His voice cuts off as John leans over.

“Can't take it anymore, know it's wrong, but fuck, Stiles…” John is mumbling as he drops his body over the back of the sofa, chin rubbing through Stiles’ cleft before his mouth reaches his son's hole, lips grazing over the pucker before he swipes his tongue over it, not enjoying the taste of the lube, but also not caring. He doesn't wait at all before he's licking over and around his son's hole, tongue dipping inside to swirl around, lips pursing as he sucks gently on Stiles’ rim.

“Fuck, dad…” Stiles does his best to rock his hips upwards and John takes it for the invitation it is, pressing his mouth down harder, fucking his tongue inside of his boy. They both moan, and there's a distinct jingle as John unhooks his belt, regretfully pulling away so he can lower it safely to the floor, out of the way of his feet. Stiles’ face is more flushed, pupils blown, breath coming out in harsh pants. His cock is leaking over his chest and John smirks as he undoes his dress shirt, dropping it to the floor and leaving him in just his undershirt. He reaches forward and gives Stiles’ cock a firm stroke, palm wetting with precome. 

“So beautiful baby. Wanted to tell you, every time you complained. Your classmates are idiots if they don't see it.” Stiles blushes but doesn't argue and John feels pleased. “Gonna eat you out a little more baby, gonna feast on your ass like I've been dreaming about, and then I'm gonna fuck you. Fill you up, show you how much I want you. Is that okay?”

Stiles nods.

“Good. Now, suck yourself. Wanna see you do it again. It's so hot - you’re so hot I couldn't stop myself anymore from touching you.” If possible, Stiles blushes even deeper but he shifts, lifting his head up even as John presses down softly on the backs of his thighs, helping his body contract until Stiles’ cock is touching his own lips. His cock twitches when Stiles opens his mouth and leans up just a tiny bit more, lips sliding over his cockhead as he begins to suckle. John can't stop himself from pushing down a little harder, watching more of Stiles’ length slide into his mouth, enjoying the way his cheeks hollow as he sucks harder. 

John puts his mouth back on Stiles’ hole, lapping at it, tilting his head so he can keep watching Stiles suck himself off. He times the thrusts of his tongue to match the movement of Stiles’ head, pushing it inside Stiles’ hole every time he bobs down on his length. He uses his free hand to shuck his khakis and boxers off, kicking his boots away before stepping out, doing his best to keep his mouth on his son. When his cock finally slaps wetly against his shirt, he lifts off, earning a whine from Stiles. He watches his son's hole wink, glistening with his spit and the lube Stiles had used. John shushes him as he pulls his undershirt over his head, glancing around once he's naked and snatching up the lube from the couch cushion. Stiles shifts off his cock, looks like he's going to move, so John puts a hand on his ankle.

“Stay just like this. Gonna fuck you while your cock is in your mouth. Want to watch you swallow your own come.” Stiles makes a strangled noise but stays where he is as John walks around the sofa, popping the cap on the lube and slicking himself up, hissing as the cool liquid touches his cock. Stiles’ eyes stay fixed to John's crotch as he moves, and he has to stop himself from puffing his chest out at the naked want he sees on his son's face. He steps onto the sofa carefully, straddling Stiles’ body as he shuffles into place. He shifts Stiles’ legs so the backs of his thighs are pressing against the tops of John's, his own ass bumping into the back of the sofa. He uses it to brace himself as he begins to squat, holding his cock down until the head is just barely touching Stiles’ pucker. He maybe whines a little as Stiles clenches, his hole mouthing at the head of John's cock. When he looks at his son, Stiles has a smug expression on his face, and John decides he knows the best way to wipe it off.

“Open up baby.” Stiles’ mouth opens, his own hand reaching to steady his cock, and John drives down in one smooth, hard thrust, filling Stiles’ ass and pushing his body down, forcing his cock nearly all the way into his own mouth. “Fuck, you feel so good son. So tight and warm and soft.” John loses himself in it, eyes alternating between watching his own thick cock breach his son, and watching Stiles’ slimmer one repeatedly filling his mouth, spit slipping out the sides as he loses focus. On one downward thrust, Stiles practically keens around his cock, and John shifts his body, thighs starting to burn as he drives into the spot harder and more consistently, battering at Stiles’ prostate.

His son is barely sucking himself off anymore, mouth panting and slack as John's thrusts push his cock in and out of his mouth. He can see Stiles’ balls, bouncing and swollen, watches them tighten and lift even as he can feel his own doing the same.  
One more hard thrust has Stiles gasping before his cock spits, painting his lips and teeth and tongue with his own release, the twitches sending more spurts over his cheeks and chin. The sight tips John that last little bit over the edge and he shoves in as deep as he can, feeling his cock pulse and throb as he empties himself into his son. He stays there, crouched, cock softening, until the trembling in this thighs becomes too much and he's in danger of falling, then carefully maneuvers himself around Stiles until he can slide down to sit properly on the sofa. 

As his heart rate slows, breath evening out, the guilt comes creeping back in. A glance to the side shows Stiles hasn't moved, still coming down from his own orgasm, legs flopped to his sides, body half melting off of the sofa.

“Stiles...son...that, uh, that was-”

“Incredible. Holy fuck.” John startles at the excitement in Stiles’ voice, even more when he sees Stiles reach a hand up, fingers slipping into his now slightly gaping hole. John can see the way their movement inside pushes his come out around them, eyes following a slowly rolling dribble as it slides across Stiles’ skin, rolling over his emptied balls, trails across his soft and sticky cock. He loses sight of it when it reaches the dark thatch of curls separating Stiles’ cock from his belly, but he lets his eyes roam over soft skin until he sticks on Stiles’ face. Stiles’ mouth is quirked up on one side, eyes glittering with mischief. “Like what you see dad?” There's a teasing lilt to the question, but John can see the tiny hints of worry behind the words, and just like that, his guilt evaporates.

“Yes.” The answer is simple but he infuses all the sincerity he can into it. He watches the way his son lights up at the confession as he hears the truth in John's words. “C'mere.” He helps Stiles scramble up and into his lap, feels the comforting weight of him as he settles, and John cups his face gently, pulling his head down so he can press a gentle kiss to Stiles’ forehead. He wants to kiss him but isn't sure how Stiles would take it, not with where his mouth has been, but Stiles surprises him anyhow, making a soft noise before tilting his chin to the side and pressing his lips to John's. It's chaste at first, but with each new press of lips, it gets a little more forceful, more wet, and when Stiles’ tongue swipes over John's lips, he opens his mouth to it, sliding his tongue along his son's, giving back as good as he's getting. His lap is growing wetter as his come leaks out of Stiles, his son rocking over him, his cock doing it's best to chub up again, when John breaks the kiss on a gasp. 

“Stiles, slow down baby, we have time.” They're both breathing a little harshly, John's hands still cupping Stiles’ cheeks.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah baby, all the time in the world.” When Stiles beams at him, John draws him back in for more gentle kisses. And it's not a like, they really do have all the time. If Stiles really wants this, John is done denying him. Denying both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [DreamWidth](https://dirtyknots.dreamwidth.org/), all of my additional contact information can be found there or on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile) here (including where you can leave me prompts of your own)!


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